I visited Vegas for a couple days with a buddy, where we shared a rather expensive suite. On the first night, we decide to save some money and eat at the buffet. When we arrived, I saw people piling their plates with crab legs, so I decided to do the same and scarfed down maybe twenty or twenty-five of them.
After dinner, we played blackjack for a couple of hours. While I lost one hundred dollars at the tables, my friend won one hundred dollars.
We decided to hit the casino bar for a nightcap before turning in. About an hour after we arrived back at the room, which was three hours after eating, I began to feel some rumblings down low. I was too tired to get out of bed, so instead I tried to fart it out. The first fart was smelly, so I knew the situation wasn’t boding well. Usually I can hold it until the morning, but this fart suggested holding it in was not to be.
A few minutes after I farted, however, another one lurking behind begged exit, one that felt... different.
Suddenly, I had a very strong urge to poop. I begrudgingly crawled out of bed and hustled to the bathroom. As the seconds ticked by, I realized this was no ordinary poop; this was going to be messy. I positioned myself over the toilet and threw down the ubiquitous strand of toilet paper to break the fall of my impending deposit. Then I took a deep breath and pushed. Boom!
The toilet splashed and shuddered. I had not fired the usual torpedo -- this was diarrhea. It was so bad that I could feel some of it dripping down my thigh. I quickly grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed at my butt to try to stem the dripping in the hopes that it was over; instead it came again two minutes later.
I spent the entire night with diarrhea. It happened every forty-five minutes or so from one to six AM. It was so messy and liquid-like that I contemplated going in the shower so that I could rinse off afterward instead of using needing toilet paper. The next morning, I felt so weak that I could barely even go to the bathroom.
Fortunately, there were no new bouts of diarrhea after six AM.
I slept the entire day as my body recovered. The only food I ate the next day consisted of of some very cold toast and chicken noodle soup. Needless to say, I destroyed the bathroom toilet. Diarrhea was splashed all around the toilet, even on the walls. I was too weak to either clean up or care. Fortunately, there was another bathroom in the suite for my friend to use.
I was fortunate that my friend had known me long enough at the time to not be entirely offended, but I pity those who find themselves in the same situation with a colleague or worse - a new girlfriend. Because of these thoughts, my mind turns to others.
As I look back on this horrid event, I ask the veterans of PoopReport:
What should -- or can -- we do to minimize the aftermath of diarrhea, especially when we're sharing a bathroom with someone we don't know well?
